The Beauty and the Tragedy
by theVisforVampire
Summary: Damon mourned the beautiful life she could have had, should have had, but when she was with him, Heaven didn't seem so far away. And unlike Stefan, he loved her enough, selfishly, to want her for an eternity/Series of stand-alone chapters post-2x10


**A/N: Collection of stand-alone Delena moments; I have way too many ideas and not nearly enough time to make separate, length stories for them all, so I figured, why not cut out the on-going, continuous plot and instead focus on purely Damon & Elena interactions? Some will be angsty, some will be cute. Everything is connected, however, and will show the progression of their relationship from the end of The Sacrifice (2x10) to an AU future relationship. **

**Reviews are appreciated!**

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Nothing about this night had gone according to plan. In fact, it all seemed to have gone completely wrong and the only one competent enough to deal with it was currently trying to subdue Little Miss Suicide Mission.

Stifling the growl that threatened to erupt from his throat and make its way to Elena's ears, Damon tamped down his anger as he pushed her against the stone wall. His fingers gripped tightly into her arms as she struggled, strong enough to leave bruises, but after the emotionally exhausting day he'd had trying to thwart her plans, he was concentrating more on getting it into her head that running into the tomb to a very ravenous Katherine was _not_ the best idea right now rather than worrying about the strength of his grip.

Elena, on the other hand, seemed to take his forceful hold on her as a challenge and struggled even harder.

His _don't even think about it_ face made her cringe, but not enough to take off _her try and make me, Damon_ expression.

"Damon, Stefan's in there!" she protested, as though that fact had completely eluded him.

"_I know_, Elena." It physically hurt him to restrain her and see the tears pooling in her eyes, tears of anger and frustration directed at him. He was trying to save her, why couldn't she understand that? It was for her own good. Even a healthy Stefan was no match for the older and far more desperate Katherine, even in her weakened state. "I know, okay? I get it. And we'll get him out, I promise you."

"Stefan!"

Elena's scream had now reached a decibel so shrill that only dogs should be allowed to hear it, Damon thought, feeling his ear drums throb.

"Let go of me, Damon. Let go of me!" Her struggles resumed in full force as she pushed against him, but he was as immovable as the stone wall she was backed up against. "Damon, please."

She was a heartbreaking sight, all pitiful tears and mutinous expression, her words frustrated but inflected with just the right amount of begging to soften him.

"No." His words came out more harshly than he'd intended but achieved the desired effect. He didn't like seeing her this way, her shoulders shaking with sobs and rage, so defeated and broken.

Her movements ceased as she stared at him. "What if Katherine's hurt him?"

Damon heard Katherine's soft, derisive snort with his hearing even though Elena couldn't. "Somehow I don't think she has," he replied dryly, getting the feeling that Katherine wanted him as a willing participant in whatever debauchery she had planned.

Elena's eyes narrowed at him accusingly, and Damon had the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach that she would rather _he_ be in there than her precious Stefan.

"You don't know that, Damon. I just want to see him, make sure he's okay. I _have_ to see him. Please."

Damon glanced into the shadowy depths of the tomb. Why the hell wasn't Stefan emerging to proclaim that all was well? Why was he skulking back there doing god knows what with Katherine? Things would be so much easier if the bastard just showed himself, to humor Elena if nothing else.

Elena followed his gaze. "It's your fault he's in there," she hissed in a low voice. "If you'd only killed her when you had the chance instead of locking her up here, we could have got the moonstone without Stefan being the sacrificial lamb." Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"My fault?" Damon's mouth dropped open. "Oh no, Elena, you do not get to pin this one on me. It was all Saint Stefan's fault he got himself roomied up with Bitchzilla." Directing his voice into the tomb, he shouted, "You just had to play hero, didn't you?"

Elena gave him a strong shove, managing to momentarily break his hold and tried to skedaddle past him.

Damon didn't know what possessed him but suddenly he wanted to prove that he, Damon, had saved her today, and instead of fighting him at every possible opportunity, she should be the teeniest bit grateful that he'd put his life on the line saving hers. His lips landed across hers in a scorching kiss meant to silence her, nothing more. It wasn't the _I love you, Elena_ kiss he gave her in his dreams, but rather a _please shut up, because I can't handle you when you're like this_ kiss. He fully expected to be shoved off, and within a second, he was.

Elena's expression was befuddled and tense, like she expected him to pounce again. Her hand came up and then faltered as she remembered what had happened earlier in the evening when she'd tried to strike him. Her hand dropped back down to her side limply. "You asshole," she said instead, but her words were watery with tears, lacking the sufficient amount of venom in them to make it hurt.

"Go back to the car," Damon said soothingly. Muttering something like "arrogant ass" under her breath, Elena stormed out, but not before turning back to the tomb and giving Stefan a goodnight. Biting her lip, she murmured, "I love you, Stefan," and hesitated a brief moment to hear it repeated back to her. Even if he wouldn't come out, surely he wouldn't deny her this small comfort? She knew he could hear her.

Silence.

Damon could hear her heart beat pick up speed and he saw a myriad of emotions play across her crestfallen face: worry, humiliation, anger. It all settled into an expression of defeat but was quickly erased when she saw Damon's quizzical, pitying expression.

"Elena…" he began to say, not sure what he could say to comfort her, if any such words even existed in the human language, but she straightened her spine, gave Damon the haughtiest look she could manage, and managed to walk out with her head held high.


End file.
